My Companion

I don't know where I’ll be, when who ever buys my book to read. I was just writing the date on my new notebook, and these thoughts came to my mind. Sometimes when I'm going over some writing I see the date on the paper, and it brings me memories of how I felt at the time when I wrote those poems , Those notes, they have the flavor of me. My intimate thoughts my most saddest and happiest moments of my existence My poems my notes my stories and my hands, they are one. One memory in all together. The way my hands clinch my writing my every move of prose I don't know who Will want to read the writing coming from a stranger a none-known poet. From lonesome I, no one knows who she is I cherish every letter, word and phrase my hands have writting. Because all of this has been to me a wonderful companion of my lonesome life of appetence to feed. Copyright©ElenaToledo2008